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Wherein my boobs are a bone of contention...in Textbook Hell (Lengthy as always!!)
Another week of Textbook Hell concluded. Following you shall find tales of woe, wit, and WTF-ness from all ends of the spectrum. Let’s not tarry any longer, shall we??
Do we look like the library to you?
Had a…er…well, not really a customer, I guess, come in grab a book from the shelf and start flipping through it. Now, it’s a brand new book, so I have cause for concern, and I ask her if I can help her find what she’s looking for. She reassures me she’s doing all right, and starts heading down the aisle, stopping to look at books from another class. I get called away by another customer needing help, and when I return, I find the little sea monkey curled up on the floor, rapidly flipping through the book and filling out what looks like a homework assignment packet. This is a no-no at our store.
Me: Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to either purchase the book or give it to me.
SC: Hang on, I just need about 20 minutes with it.
Me: Ma’am, it’s against our store policy for you to use books for homework that you haven’t paid for. It’s still store property.
SC: Well it’s too expensive to BUY!
Me: (Not my problem, sunshine!!) I’m sorry ma’am, but it’s a brand new book, you could damage it, and then you’d be forced to pay for it.
SC: I’m being careful with it! Besides, it’s not like you were smart enough to have some used books in stock for me to use!
Me:
(Bitch say what now?!) Ma’am, give me the book or buy it, those are your only options!
SC: well, can I at least use it to make photo copies of the pages I need?
Me: No.
SC: <Whines> Why noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot!?!?
Me: 1, it’s not your book, you don’t own it and 2, it’s illegal to copy textbooks, since the material inside is copyrighted. You need permission from the publisher.
SC: <Stuffing her crap back into her bag as she stands> You have absolutely no respect for your customers!! I just needed to borrow a book for a few minutes! Barnes and Nobles doesn’t treat me this way!!
Me: If you need to borrow a book ma’am, I suggest the library. I can’t bend corporate policy for you. Have a nice day! <As I walk off with the book>
She came up to the textbook counter and spewed some drivel at L, our textbook manager, but he backed me up, and she stormed out. It felt nice.
If you’re creepy and you know it, go to hell!!
Random guy comes in while I’m pulling books for a HUGE return to a vendor. ( I was on page 20 of a 47 page picking list) He first asks me if I know of a FedEx Kinkos, and I tell him there isn’t one nearby, but where a few more are that I know of. He thanks me than starts wandering the book section, always managing to be in the aisle I’m in. He strikes up conversation, and keeps moving closer and closer to me in the process, until at one point, I turn around and he’s close enough I can FEEL him breathing on me!
I smile politely, turn and go ask my textbook manager (L) to help him because I do NOT feel comfortable on the floor with him. Manager says ok, and goes to see if he needs any help. Creepy guy (CG) proceeds to get sulky and throws a pissy fit.
L: Hi sir, can I help you find anything today?
CG: Naw. Hey, where’d that other girl go?
L: Oh, she had another task to attend to, but I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have.
CG: No thanks. <He wanders around some more, then comes over to the textbook counter, where I’m inputting data at L’s desk, and again tries to strike up conversation!> Hey beautiful thang. <Yeah, he really said that> Any chance I can get some help over here?
L: <Comes behind the textbook counter> I’d be happy to help you sir, what can I do for you?
CG: <Cat butt face!> Oh…uh… <Mutters something about looking for a book, L searches for it in the computer, and I keep typing merrily away, my attention fixed firmly on the screen.>
L can’t find the book he was looking for, and he leaves. I heave a sigh of relief, and thank L profusely. I walk up to the registers to grab a bottle of juice and say hi to the cashier, S, another female CW. As she rings me up, the chime over the door rings, indicating someone walked in, and S hands me my change. I turn around and CG is standing six inches away from me!! I jump and instinctively go for my pepper spray, but alas, it’s on my keys and not clipped to my pants as per usual because I’m not allowed to have personal effects on the floor.
CG: <Buys a bottle of Vitamin Water> So, hey, whatchoo think about the fact Kinkos ain’t around here anymore?
Me:
uh…I’ve actually never seen one here, so I couldn’t say, sir. Excuse me. <And I beat a hasty retreat, back to tell L he’s returned>
By the time L gets up to the registers, S is unnerved because apparently he tried his suave methods on her, too. He kept mentioning that the three of us, (him, S and me) had a “Connection” and couldn’t she feel it? She was more than happy when L went up there and was once again overly cheerful and helpful. CG left and hasn’t been seen since, but gyah! <Shudder!!!>
When ya gotta go, ya gotta go…I guess…
So, tonight is a home football game for my university. As such, it’s been crazy hectic in the store, and during all the froofra, we’ve unlocked the bathrooms so people can try clothes on, change, etc. it also means I’ve had to be in and out of said bathrooms a lot, just to clear out hangers, stock TP, and keep it generally neat and straightened. It’s one of those moments when I’m locking the doors to do so, and these three Paris Hilton’s wannabes, (complete with obscenely large sunglasses and pillboxes parading as purses, in matching white glittery tank tops, and crotch bandaids that I think were supposed to be shorts, start yanking on the door. I politely inform them I’m cleaning, and I’ll be done in 2 minutes. Really, it’s not a labor intensive job. I use Clorox wipes on the toilet seats, sink, counters and tanks. I sweep the floors, pick up spare hangers, and spritz everything with a surface/air sanitizer. Boom. Done.
Apparently these little asspumpkins decided two minutes was too long to wait, so they went into the MEN’S room to do their business, which only has one toilet. I was not alerted to this, until I heard shrieks of rage echoing in the hallway. I dart out, and see one poor confused looking guy standing bewildered. I asked what happened, and he said there were three girls in the guy’s bathroom, doing their hair and makeup, and when he went in to use the urinal they ordered him out, and said they’d have him arrested if he didn’t leave RIGHT NOW!!
I should take this moment to note I don’t have a lot of patience for school spirit huzzahs, and I’d been dealing with a throng of pus-spouting goat diddlers all day. I had no patience for this. I banged on the door, and went inside to have a chat with the little EWs.
Me: Poor, beleaguered textbook monkey
EW1-3: the rats in question.
Me: Ok, ladies, you need to get out. Now.
EW1: We wouldn’t be in here if YOU hadn’t locked us out of the girl’s room.
Me: I was cleaning. It’s clean now. So out. There’s a gentleman out there who needs to be in here.
EW2: But we’re already set up. Tell him to hold it.
Me: Why? You obviously couldn’t.
EW1: What did you say?!
Me: I didn’t stutter. Now get your stuff and get out.
EW3: We DEMAND to see your manager!!! We’re not moving.
Me: Fair enough. <I go and page for K, the kick ass manager who takes no shit from anyone.>
K: What’s up?
Me: Issue in the men’s room
K: … do I get any more details than that?
Me: Oh no, once you get in there, it’s self-explanatory. <Right around this point there’s yet another ear-splitting shriek as the doucherats in question order another man out of the men’s room>
K: <Goes inside and they start shrieking at him, while I wait just outside the door.> Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ, what is this shit?
EW3: Get the hell out, you perv!! We’re busy!
K: What the hell are you three doing in my men’s room?
EW1: It’s OURS now, until we’re done getting ready for the game.
Me: <Sticks her head in at this point> Oh good, you’re here! Ladies, this is my manager.
<Man, it felt GOOD to see the “Oh shit!” looks come over all three overly spackled faces…>
K: <Before any of them can even say a word.> I so don’t care. All three of you. Out of the men’s room. Out of my store. Now.
They pack up, grumbling the whole time, and trying to protest that it’s all my fault for having the audacity to do my job and CLEAN the women’s room when they needed it. Oh yeah, they made themselves look real smart, they did, they did.
You Suck! I’ve never interacted with you or met you, but you SUCK!!
So, I’m processing a web order. It’s a big one, several hundred dollars worth of merchandise. I get it pulled, stuffed in a box, and I’m waiting to process it so it can print a packing list and charge the credit card. Except the card is declined.
No big deal, I go to call the customer, who is in Florida, mind you. Now, I work in Houston TX. I grab the order sheet, and look at the phone number…which is 016-XXX-XXXX. It looks a little odd to me, but what do I know? I then dial the number and get the beepy tone that I’ve essentially dialed wrong. I’m quite confused at this point, and spend the next 45 minutes trying to figure this phone number out. I look up all the Florida area codes, and then search for the city, to find the right one. Another beepy message. Fuck! I call K, who’s out tailgating (and calling it networking, the ass!!!! TAKE ME WITH YOU NEXT TIME!!!!). He transferred here from Miami, FL, and I asked for help. He gave me the two area codes he knew of for the particular city and I try those. More beepy messages.
I search for the customer’s name on whitepages.com. Get nothing anywhere near to the address in FL provided. I search for the address and get a list of 28 businesses sharing the same office building. Double Fuck!! I dialed the number with all the area codes from FL, hoping to get lucky. Because I couldn’t leave it until morning! Oh, no, this bitch wanted the order shipped Next Day Air!! It HAD to be there TOMORROW!!!!111!!!!, as she indicated in her additional comments box.
So, called all the zip codes. Got a metric fuck-ton load of beepy messages. Finally got ahold of one number that went through and asked to speak to the customer’s name!! She said it was her!! Oh, happy day!! …And then she tells me she didn’t order anything from us, why she’s never ordered anything from a computer at ALL. Head. Meet Desk. Desk, buy Head a Drink. Head needs it.
So, I go back and pull ALL of the order information I have on the customer and starting taking copious notes. As I’m going through all the pages, I realize she left us an email address.
Head. You remember Desk? Desk, meet Head again. Meet Head repeatedly.
I use one of my manager’s email addys to shoot off the message about her card declining. Gave her the fucked up phone number she gave us, a reference number, and told her to call us to let us know what was going on with the order, did she still want it, etc.
I’m reasonably certain the email will either bounce or she’ll call, and call as all kinds of incompetent baboons, and start demanding free stuff and discounts.
So, I had an SC. Whom I never, ever, came into contact with, or interacted with in anyway. How’s that for weird??
And finally….BEWBS!!!
So, had a few snobby bimbo female customers in this week. I don’t say this to be rude or judgmental or stereotypical, but it’s the truth. Seriously, I’ve seen more brain power from a crippled amoeba on crack. These girls are in fairly good shape, and yes, I suppose you could call them curvy. Well, they were quite proud of flaunting their curves. Now, mind you, I was on the floor, folding shirts with a CW, T. T is gay. T is proud of being gay. T is the kind of guy I can talk with about anything, and our conversations on breaks have gone from mildly risqué to out and out raunchy. T knows about as much about my body as I do. This is important to remember. So when these two snooty goatspawn start asking questions about the shirts, the conversation goes something like this.
SG1: So, do you like, have any shirts that, like, aren’t so v-necked?
SG2: Yeah, cuz, you know, we don’t want to fall out or anything.
Me: well, we can actually let you try those on. The V-necks aren’t really that plunging. But we do have some nice scoop necks over here.
SG1: <Smirking at me> Well, you wouldn’t know, but when you’re well endowed, things tend to…spill.
SG2: <Giggles annoyingly>
T: <Stifles a snort, cuz he knows my size, but doesn’t say anything. Yet>
Me: That’s…nice…
SG1: You don’t understand. I’m a C Cup. <bounces, as though to show off>
Me: Ma’am, here are the scoop necks. Would you like to try anything on?
SG2: Oooooooh, someone’s jealous….
Me: no, not really…
SG1: No need to be RUDE about it.
Me: I wasn’t.
T: She wasn’t. Ya’ll are the ones showing off, like we should be impressed or something.
SG1: You know what they say, if you’ve got it, flaunt it! <smirks again>
SG: <Giggles annoyingly again>
Me: <Wonders if they’re high or something…>
T: <Smirks back, and before I can stop him> Sugar, SHE’S a DD, and you don’t see her bragging, do you?
Me:
Urk…
SG1: No way!
SG2: She barely looks like a B!!
They actually argue back and forth for a few minutes, until…
T: Two words, sugar. Sports. Bra. Working here, you can’t have bits bouncing and jiggling all over the place, can you??
SG2:
They leave without a word, and I turn, without missing a beat, and pop T in the stomach.
Me: What the hell was that for!?!
T: They left, didn’t they?
Me: …
Behold, an HOUR of typing, to get this post up. Worship my fingers!! For they are about to fall off…hope ya’ll enjoyed it!! I know I was giggling for a chunk of it when it was over.
Do we look like the library to you?
Had a…er…well, not really a customer, I guess, come in grab a book from the shelf and start flipping through it. Now, it’s a brand new book, so I have cause for concern, and I ask her if I can help her find what she’s looking for. She reassures me she’s doing all right, and starts heading down the aisle, stopping to look at books from another class. I get called away by another customer needing help, and when I return, I find the little sea monkey curled up on the floor, rapidly flipping through the book and filling out what looks like a homework assignment packet. This is a no-no at our store.
Me: Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to either purchase the book or give it to me.
SC: Hang on, I just need about 20 minutes with it.
Me: Ma’am, it’s against our store policy for you to use books for homework that you haven’t paid for. It’s still store property.
SC: Well it’s too expensive to BUY!
Me: (Not my problem, sunshine!!) I’m sorry ma’am, but it’s a brand new book, you could damage it, and then you’d be forced to pay for it.
SC: I’m being careful with it! Besides, it’s not like you were smart enough to have some used books in stock for me to use!
Me:
(Bitch say what now?!) Ma’am, give me the book or buy it, those are your only options!SC: well, can I at least use it to make photo copies of the pages I need?
Me: No.
SC: <Whines> Why noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot!?!?
Me: 1, it’s not your book, you don’t own it and 2, it’s illegal to copy textbooks, since the material inside is copyrighted. You need permission from the publisher.
SC: <Stuffing her crap back into her bag as she stands> You have absolutely no respect for your customers!! I just needed to borrow a book for a few minutes! Barnes and Nobles doesn’t treat me this way!!
Me: If you need to borrow a book ma’am, I suggest the library. I can’t bend corporate policy for you. Have a nice day! <As I walk off with the book>
She came up to the textbook counter and spewed some drivel at L, our textbook manager, but he backed me up, and she stormed out. It felt nice.
If you’re creepy and you know it, go to hell!!
Random guy comes in while I’m pulling books for a HUGE return to a vendor. ( I was on page 20 of a 47 page picking list) He first asks me if I know of a FedEx Kinkos, and I tell him there isn’t one nearby, but where a few more are that I know of. He thanks me than starts wandering the book section, always managing to be in the aisle I’m in. He strikes up conversation, and keeps moving closer and closer to me in the process, until at one point, I turn around and he’s close enough I can FEEL him breathing on me!
I smile politely, turn and go ask my textbook manager (L) to help him because I do NOT feel comfortable on the floor with him. Manager says ok, and goes to see if he needs any help. Creepy guy (CG) proceeds to get sulky and throws a pissy fit.
L: Hi sir, can I help you find anything today?
CG: Naw. Hey, where’d that other girl go?
L: Oh, she had another task to attend to, but I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have.
CG: No thanks. <He wanders around some more, then comes over to the textbook counter, where I’m inputting data at L’s desk, and again tries to strike up conversation!> Hey beautiful thang. <Yeah, he really said that> Any chance I can get some help over here?
L: <Comes behind the textbook counter> I’d be happy to help you sir, what can I do for you?
CG: <Cat butt face!> Oh…uh… <Mutters something about looking for a book, L searches for it in the computer, and I keep typing merrily away, my attention fixed firmly on the screen.>
L can’t find the book he was looking for, and he leaves. I heave a sigh of relief, and thank L profusely. I walk up to the registers to grab a bottle of juice and say hi to the cashier, S, another female CW. As she rings me up, the chime over the door rings, indicating someone walked in, and S hands me my change. I turn around and CG is standing six inches away from me!! I jump and instinctively go for my pepper spray, but alas, it’s on my keys and not clipped to my pants as per usual because I’m not allowed to have personal effects on the floor.
CG: <Buys a bottle of Vitamin Water> So, hey, whatchoo think about the fact Kinkos ain’t around here anymore?
Me:
uh…I’ve actually never seen one here, so I couldn’t say, sir. Excuse me. <And I beat a hasty retreat, back to tell L he’s returned>By the time L gets up to the registers, S is unnerved because apparently he tried his suave methods on her, too. He kept mentioning that the three of us, (him, S and me) had a “Connection” and couldn’t she feel it? She was more than happy when L went up there and was once again overly cheerful and helpful. CG left and hasn’t been seen since, but gyah! <Shudder!!!>
When ya gotta go, ya gotta go…I guess…
So, tonight is a home football game for my university. As such, it’s been crazy hectic in the store, and during all the froofra, we’ve unlocked the bathrooms so people can try clothes on, change, etc. it also means I’ve had to be in and out of said bathrooms a lot, just to clear out hangers, stock TP, and keep it generally neat and straightened. It’s one of those moments when I’m locking the doors to do so, and these three Paris Hilton’s wannabes, (complete with obscenely large sunglasses and pillboxes parading as purses, in matching white glittery tank tops, and crotch bandaids that I think were supposed to be shorts, start yanking on the door. I politely inform them I’m cleaning, and I’ll be done in 2 minutes. Really, it’s not a labor intensive job. I use Clorox wipes on the toilet seats, sink, counters and tanks. I sweep the floors, pick up spare hangers, and spritz everything with a surface/air sanitizer. Boom. Done.
Apparently these little asspumpkins decided two minutes was too long to wait, so they went into the MEN’S room to do their business, which only has one toilet. I was not alerted to this, until I heard shrieks of rage echoing in the hallway. I dart out, and see one poor confused looking guy standing bewildered. I asked what happened, and he said there were three girls in the guy’s bathroom, doing their hair and makeup, and when he went in to use the urinal they ordered him out, and said they’d have him arrested if he didn’t leave RIGHT NOW!!
I should take this moment to note I don’t have a lot of patience for school spirit huzzahs, and I’d been dealing with a throng of pus-spouting goat diddlers all day. I had no patience for this. I banged on the door, and went inside to have a chat with the little EWs.
Me: Poor, beleaguered textbook monkey
EW1-3: the rats in question.
Me: Ok, ladies, you need to get out. Now.
EW1: We wouldn’t be in here if YOU hadn’t locked us out of the girl’s room.
Me: I was cleaning. It’s clean now. So out. There’s a gentleman out there who needs to be in here.
EW2: But we’re already set up. Tell him to hold it.
Me: Why? You obviously couldn’t.
EW1: What did you say?!
Me: I didn’t stutter. Now get your stuff and get out.
EW3: We DEMAND to see your manager!!! We’re not moving.
Me: Fair enough. <I go and page for K, the kick ass manager who takes no shit from anyone.>
K: What’s up?
Me: Issue in the men’s room
K: … do I get any more details than that?
Me: Oh no, once you get in there, it’s self-explanatory. <Right around this point there’s yet another ear-splitting shriek as the doucherats in question order another man out of the men’s room>
K: <Goes inside and they start shrieking at him, while I wait just outside the door.> Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ, what is this shit?
EW3: Get the hell out, you perv!! We’re busy!
K: What the hell are you three doing in my men’s room?
EW1: It’s OURS now, until we’re done getting ready for the game.
Me: <Sticks her head in at this point> Oh good, you’re here! Ladies, this is my manager.
<Man, it felt GOOD to see the “Oh shit!” looks come over all three overly spackled faces…>
K: <Before any of them can even say a word.> I so don’t care. All three of you. Out of the men’s room. Out of my store. Now.
They pack up, grumbling the whole time, and trying to protest that it’s all my fault for having the audacity to do my job and CLEAN the women’s room when they needed it. Oh yeah, they made themselves look real smart, they did, they did.
You Suck! I’ve never interacted with you or met you, but you SUCK!!
So, I’m processing a web order. It’s a big one, several hundred dollars worth of merchandise. I get it pulled, stuffed in a box, and I’m waiting to process it so it can print a packing list and charge the credit card. Except the card is declined.
No big deal, I go to call the customer, who is in Florida, mind you. Now, I work in Houston TX. I grab the order sheet, and look at the phone number…which is 016-XXX-XXXX. It looks a little odd to me, but what do I know? I then dial the number and get the beepy tone that I’ve essentially dialed wrong. I’m quite confused at this point, and spend the next 45 minutes trying to figure this phone number out. I look up all the Florida area codes, and then search for the city, to find the right one. Another beepy message. Fuck! I call K, who’s out tailgating (and calling it networking, the ass!!!! TAKE ME WITH YOU NEXT TIME!!!!). He transferred here from Miami, FL, and I asked for help. He gave me the two area codes he knew of for the particular city and I try those. More beepy messages.
I search for the customer’s name on whitepages.com. Get nothing anywhere near to the address in FL provided. I search for the address and get a list of 28 businesses sharing the same office building. Double Fuck!! I dialed the number with all the area codes from FL, hoping to get lucky. Because I couldn’t leave it until morning! Oh, no, this bitch wanted the order shipped Next Day Air!! It HAD to be there TOMORROW!!!!111!!!!, as she indicated in her additional comments box.
So, called all the zip codes. Got a metric fuck-ton load of beepy messages. Finally got ahold of one number that went through and asked to speak to the customer’s name!! She said it was her!! Oh, happy day!! …And then she tells me she didn’t order anything from us, why she’s never ordered anything from a computer at ALL. Head. Meet Desk. Desk, buy Head a Drink. Head needs it.
So, I go back and pull ALL of the order information I have on the customer and starting taking copious notes. As I’m going through all the pages, I realize she left us an email address.
Head. You remember Desk? Desk, meet Head again. Meet Head repeatedly.
I use one of my manager’s email addys to shoot off the message about her card declining. Gave her the fucked up phone number she gave us, a reference number, and told her to call us to let us know what was going on with the order, did she still want it, etc.
I’m reasonably certain the email will either bounce or she’ll call, and call as all kinds of incompetent baboons, and start demanding free stuff and discounts.
So, I had an SC. Whom I never, ever, came into contact with, or interacted with in anyway. How’s that for weird??
And finally….BEWBS!!!
So, had a few snobby bimbo female customers in this week. I don’t say this to be rude or judgmental or stereotypical, but it’s the truth. Seriously, I’ve seen more brain power from a crippled amoeba on crack. These girls are in fairly good shape, and yes, I suppose you could call them curvy. Well, they were quite proud of flaunting their curves. Now, mind you, I was on the floor, folding shirts with a CW, T. T is gay. T is proud of being gay. T is the kind of guy I can talk with about anything, and our conversations on breaks have gone from mildly risqué to out and out raunchy. T knows about as much about my body as I do. This is important to remember. So when these two snooty goatspawn start asking questions about the shirts, the conversation goes something like this.
SG1: So, do you like, have any shirts that, like, aren’t so v-necked?
SG2: Yeah, cuz, you know, we don’t want to fall out or anything.
Me: well, we can actually let you try those on. The V-necks aren’t really that plunging. But we do have some nice scoop necks over here.
SG1: <Smirking at me> Well, you wouldn’t know, but when you’re well endowed, things tend to…spill.
SG2: <Giggles annoyingly>
T: <Stifles a snort, cuz he knows my size, but doesn’t say anything. Yet>
Me: That’s…nice…
SG1: You don’t understand. I’m a C Cup. <bounces, as though to show off>
Me: Ma’am, here are the scoop necks. Would you like to try anything on?
SG2: Oooooooh, someone’s jealous….
Me: no, not really…
SG1: No need to be RUDE about it.
Me: I wasn’t.
T: She wasn’t. Ya’ll are the ones showing off, like we should be impressed or something.
SG1: You know what they say, if you’ve got it, flaunt it! <smirks again>
SG: <Giggles annoyingly again>
Me: <Wonders if they’re high or something…>
T: <Smirks back, and before I can stop him> Sugar, SHE’S a DD, and you don’t see her bragging, do you?
Me:
Urk…SG1: No way!
SG2: She barely looks like a B!!
They actually argue back and forth for a few minutes, until…
T: Two words, sugar. Sports. Bra. Working here, you can’t have bits bouncing and jiggling all over the place, can you??
SG2:
They leave without a word, and I turn, without missing a beat, and pop T in the stomach.
Me: What the hell was that for!?!
T: They left, didn’t they?
Me: …
Behold, an HOUR of typing, to get this post up. Worship my fingers!! For they are about to fall off…hope ya’ll enjoyed it!! I know I was giggling for a chunk of it when it was over.
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